


Heatwave

by Keagan_Ashleigh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Ficlet, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Smut, and a water spray, it involves ice cubes, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keagan_Ashleigh/pseuds/Keagan_Ashleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England is suffering a heatwave that leaves Sherlock mad, thankfully John has a solution for that. Kinda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heatwave

**Author's Note:**

> The current weather inspired me a short ficlet and a headache, isn’t it nice? Plus, I don’t know if it’s the heat or the headache that is freeing the sinner I actually am, but it’s nsfw, like. yes. really. smut.  
> And it will be my first (I don’t know if it’ll be good, I’m… experimenting - I genuinely have noooo idea if I’m good at it). 
> 
> As to feel like being in hell, let’s be in hell for good.

Sherlock usually likes summer. Usually. Mainly because England not so often leaves the comfortable level of 20 degrees, but today - if they closed their eyes and forgot about the sounds they could almost believe they were in some solar city standing peacefully on the coasts of the Mediterranean sea were the wind blows hot and thick from the East, where the emptied streets shine white and pure under the zenith sun. Sherlock could almost hear the waves rushing on the shore and feel the stinging sunlight on his pale, fragile skin, a skin made for winter; realising after a while that the sun have made its way through the opened window to his flanks, darting its hellish rays on him.

Spread on his bed, wearing nothing but his pants, he exhales a long whine he finishes in a supplicant “Jawn”.  
“What?”, a long sleepy drawl beside of him answers, the sound muffled by the pillow on which John’s head is resting.  
John is lying flat on his stomach, playing lazily with Sherlock’s curls as he tries to sleep, drifting away in dreams of snow and rain and mountains covered in white, dreaming of wind and ice and colder places.  
“I won’t survive until the end of summer, it’s too hot.”  
“What do you want me to do about it?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“It’ll be over soon. Hopefully…”  
“Not soon enough.” Sherlock sulks, which makes John laugh against the pillow, straightening up a bit to look at Sherlock, his half-opened eyes darkened by the shadow, the sunlight shining like a crown around his head. Sherlock’s heart tightens at the sight of how beautiful he is, filled with love and joy, happy that John is here with him, sharing his bed, their bed.  
“Maybe I’ve got something to make you feel better.” John says, smiling.

He stands up and goes for the kitchen, from where he comes back with a bowl filled with ice cubes and a water spray.

“Close your eyes”, he says. Sherlock complies. He sprays cool water on Sherlock’s body, who exhales a deep sigh of pleasure, throwing his head back to offer his throat to the fresh droplets, feeling like snowflakes on his heated skin.  
John sits carefully on his lap, and Sherlock opens his eyes on John taking an ice cube between his fingers, the melted water welling and running along his palm and wrist, little drops falling with a deafened “plink plonk” on Sherlock’s belly. He then brushes Sherlock’s lips with the ice cube, making them glim and part, slightly, Sherlock’s tongue darting to catch a drop.  
John bends on him to kiss him, brushing lightly against his lips, leaving a tiny smooch on his upper lip. Under him Sherlock moans and begs for more, straightening up to catch John’s mouth, but John pulls him back on the bed, a look on his face saying “be patient, love”. He pulls away and glides the cube on Sherlock’s chest, from neck to belly, making the man shiver.

Sherlock bites his lower lip as John sucks the cube slowly, his gaze locked onto him.  
It’s not much the cool feeling of the melted ice on his skin than the sight of John that makes Sherlock chill, his nerves lightening all across his body, and sigh - deeper still as John gives him the kiss he was craving for, capturing his tongue between his deliciously cold lips, sucking, and licking, running the cube along his waist, around his nipples, until it remains nothing but a gem of water the size of Sherlock’s pupils. John grabs another cube and put it in his mouth before throwing it away.

John lets go of Sherlock’s mouth to pepper kisses on his temple, trailing down his jaw, to his neck, kissing and licking across Sherlock’s chest, to his belly, to his waist, leaving behind a path of burning coldness on his skin, sucking the droplets shining under the sunlight, making Sherlock look as if he was adorned with diamonds. He slides his cold fingers under the waistband of Sherlock pants, puling them off in a caress, freeing Sherlock’s erection.  
John brushes slowly Sherlock’s cock with the tip of his fingers, making Sherlock arch, greedy and burning for more.  
But again: “be patient, love”, John says without words, pushing Sherlock’s hips against the mattress.

“John”, Sherlock moans, as he feels the soft and wet and cool touch of John’s tongue on the silky skin of his groin, inside his thigh, his hand going for another ice cube that he rubs gently along Sherlock’s leg, on the crook of his knees, one side after the other, as he keeps kissing the inside of Sherlock shuddering thighs. Sherlock fists the sheet in one hand, the other resting on John’s head. He would be thrusting against John’s cheek if he wasn’t forcing him to stay still, driven to the edges of madness as his lover works him slowly, teasing him until warm and sticky precome starts to pour along his dick.  
John smiles as he licks it, from base to top, slowly, so slowly, with the tip of his tongue fresh as an icicle, tides of fire rushing from Sherlock’s belly to each and every nerves of his body.

“Oh fuck - John!” He cries out, not able to say any other words, his mind going blank if not for the awareness of John’s hands kneading the flesh of his arse, of his mouth kissing the head of his cock, sucking slowly, his fresh tongue licking in long strokes, twice, three times, four times, before he engulfs the whole length of his prick. Sherlock feels like a lightening bolt blinding his capacity to think, he gets lost in the overwhelming feeling of John’s mouth around his skin, his tongue massaging him, the scent of his own sweat melting with John’s, he feels like falling, burning, the room around him starts to spin and disappear in a blur, as if it ceased to exist. A moan gets stuck in his throat, so close to escape and fill the space in between. He looks down a second to see John’s eyes locked onto him, and as if it was what he waited for John went to palm his own hard cock, stroking himself slowly.  
Little droplets of sweat runs down his neck, and he arches, in the same movement John pulls him closer, his mouth going up and down, sucking deep.

The moan is set free as Sherlock comes, loud and croaked, soon swallowed in John’s mouth kissing him as he thrust against Sherlock’s hip. Sherlock rolls on his side, dragging John along with him, and as they kiss he lets his hand wander toward John’s cock, as if it was moved by its own will. He palms John as his body still trembles with the aftermath of his orgasm. He kisses John’s shoulder, and neck, and goes back to his mouth, tasting himself on John’s tongue and lips, parting only to whisper “I love you” - words flying like butterflies into John’s heart. He can feel John’s heart beating fast against his chest, his skin getting hotter and hotter with each stroke. John grabs Sherlock’s hair and licks up his throat, digs his fingers into Sherlock’s side as he thrust in Sherlock’s hand, soon covered in his ejaculate, the space around them filled with the sound of John grunting and Sherlock panting.

They kiss once more, Sherlock lacing his legs around John’s, caressing his back, trying to catch their breath as they part.

“Feeling better?” John pants before kissing his lover’s forehead.  
After a moment of reflection Sherlock answers, a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth, drawing lines around his eyes, that John finds beautiful and greets with a kiss on it:  
“I’m still hot.”  
John laughs and pushes Sherlock away just to stretch his arm above him to grab the water spray, and with a laugh sprays water on their sweating bodies, lays another small and quick kiss on Sherlock’s lips and whispers “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”  
“Yes. But I’d like to hear it again.”  
“I love you, Sherlock, with every inch of my being, I love you so much. My love for you knows no limits. Immeasurable, and it fills me whole, it helps me breathe and makes me happy to wake up everyday. You are my everything, Sherlock, I love you.”  
Sherlock traces the line of John’s face - from his temple to his chin - with his finger, as he says, still smiling, his eyes sparkling with joy: “I love you all the same. My John.”

**Author's Note:**

> VOILA!!!! For a first I hope it’s not so bad (?). I’m not sure if I’ll do this often, if you know me since long enough you may know smut isn’t necessarily my jam (though I have to admit it was fun to do).  
> Though, if this one worth something, maybe I’ll try again once in a while. ^^ 
> 
> Alright, now I’m gonna pray a few Ave Maria to wash my sins away. Just kidding, I’m not a believer and I don’t give a single fuck. :o)
> 
> I hope you liked it! :D


End file.
